


Charmed

by blackjacktheboss



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Charmed Ones au, WITCHES!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-10-27 12:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20760419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackjacktheboss/pseuds/blackjacktheboss
Summary: A Great Prophecy once foretold the birth of the most powerful witches the world has ever known. There are those, friend and foe, who have awaited their arrival for centuries but to the rest of the world, they're just three women from a small town.or one where Annabeth, Piper and Hazel find out the real reason they were raised together in what they call a witchy commune.





	1. Whence It Began

Rain cascaded down as thunder clapped and lightning cracked the sky, illuminating in flashes a small clearing among a grove of trees. Cloaked figures stood at the edges of the woods, their harmonic chanting serving as a bass line to the sounds of the forest, just barely rising above the howling wind. 

At the center of the clearing sat an altar of stone, lined with candles with light that flickered despite the cutting wind, halved apples with laurel leaves, and in the middle of all of this laid a woman in the throes of labor. 

She did not scream or cry out, simply gritted her teeth and did what nature demanded. A cloaked figure attended to her, wiping the mixture of rain and sweat from her brow while another figure stood just off to the side with a broom, sweeping from east to west, mimicking the path of the sun. Yet another powerful clap of thunder seemed to shake the world, and as its reverberation faded, its hum was overtaken by the cries of a new life. 

The cloaked figures remained in place and continued their chanting as part of the storm dissipated with an unnatural quickness. Inside the clearing, the air stilled and the rain came to a full stop, while right outside the border of the trees, the storm raged on. Above, the clouds melted to nothing, revealing a full moon that showered the clearing in its soft light. 

The cloaked figure who had been attending to the new mother held the babe close to their chest and removed their hood, revealing a head of fire red hair and fierce green eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight. The remaining cloaked figures stopped their chanting as the redhead stepped away from the altar and held the baby out in the shower of moonlight. 

“Sisters,” she said, her voice strong and proud, “our future has arrived.” 

The cloaked figures all pulled their hoods back to reveal the faces of countless women, each different from the other in more ways than one, who took each other’s hands. As they closed their circle, they called out in unison. “Blessed be.” 

Once again, thunder clapped and lightning lit up the clearing and where before there was nothing, a new hooded figure appeared. 

The women all flinched and held their breath, but the redhead stood tall as she pulled the babe close to her chest. 

The moonlight seemed to shift around this new figure, as if the light were being held at bay by some invisible force field around this person. After a brief moment, the figure also lowered their hood, and the sight of her sent nervous murmurs through the circle of women. She was a foot taller than everyone in attendance and her brown hair was almost gold in the moonlight. She had eyes that were completely silver, but everything about her facial features was in flux. The redhead visibly shivered, which seemed to put a smirk on the mysterious woman’s face. 

“What is thy name, traveler?” the redhead asked, her voice shaky. She had seen enough in her years to know the importance of hospitality. 

The mysterious woman stepped forward, and the moonlight suddenly seemed to be emanating from her, as if she were the moon itself. 

“We are known by many names,” she said, her voice suddenly seeming to be made up of many. “Hecate, Oya, Isis, Kamrusepa, Xochiquetzal, Chin, Freyja. The list goes on and on.” 

The redhead’s eyes grew big as the woman’s words sunk in. Can it be? she thought to herself. The women around the clearing held each other’s hands tighter, unsure if what they were seeing was true. 

“Dear sister, I seek a truth not known to man,” the redhead began. “A truth that can come only from the Divine Mother. These hands and their magic, this heart and its beat, were all bestowed upon me by her. I have been gone from her too long and the warmth of her hearth is my only sanctuary. Point me towards the North Star, dear sister, so that I may know her again.” 

The mysterious woman held her head high, the light around her becoming brighter. Her voice was clear and commanding as it carried through the clearing. “It is I that you seek, dear daughter. It is I, the Divine Mother, who put that magic in your hands and the beat in your heart. It is my hearth whose warmth you seek. It is I who holds the truth not known to man. You ask me to point you to the North Star, dear daughter? Here I stand.” 

The redhead immediately bowed her head in respect, and the rest of the women in the circle followed. 

“Blessed be, dear queens,” the redhead said, followed by a chorus of “blessed be” from the other women. “To what do we owe this great honor?” 

“The child,” the Divine Mother said, all of her voices still echoing one another. “She is the daughter we have all been awaiting. She is the truth not known to man.” 

Suddenly, the woman seemed to split into countless versions of herself, each standing in front of a different woman in the circle. In various languages and dialects, the women began: 

“Daughters, on this night, we bring you a prophecy. This child is the beginning of a great line of witches. She will take the gifts we have bestowed upon you all from the beginning of time and from her blood, the greatest witches the world has ever known will be born. We come tonight to bless her, and to bless all of you, who we leave in charge of her magical education. The knowledge you bestow upon her will echo through time. She is the blood of your blood, the blood of our blood, and someday women of this earth will reap the blessings of your plight. Tonight, under this great moon and within the bonds of sisterhood, we show you each a piece of the future and entrust you with the knowledge that whatever your individual fates may be, as a Coven, your future... is a charmed one.” 

Another clap of thunder rang out and the clearing disappeared into darkness, but only for a moment. When the light from the moon returned, the women found themselves all looking to each other with the empty hope that someone would be able to explain what they had all just seen. 

The woman on the altar, who through all of this had been silent from exhaustion and then shock, sat up. “Rachel…. Please let me see her. Let me hold my daughter.” 

Rachel, the redhead, had tears streaming down her face as she handed the baby back to her mother. The new mother cooed to her daughter as the baby’s hand wrapped around her finger and Rachel sniffled before smiling down at the pair.

“Tell me, beloved,” Rachel said. “What be her name?” 

Lost in the euphoria of motherhood, she did not look up when she answered. “Zoë. Zoë Nightshade.” 

“Blessed be, Zoë” Rachel said, her voice carrying through the clearing. 

And again, the circle of women answered back in unison. “Blessed be.” 

Finally, the young woman looked up to see the tears that still made their way down Rachel’s cheeks. “What is wrong, great seer? What did they show you?” 

Rachel reached out and gingerly ran her hand along the baby’s soft head. “I saw great suffering, dear sister. But then…. I saw great triumph.”


	2. The Manor

Nightshade Manor had been standing tall for almost a hundred years on the outskirts of Half-Blood Harbor in upstate New York. Founded as a boarding house for young girls who had lost their mothers to the madness of local witch trials, it had always been a place where women of any age, race, or social status could seek refuge. Not much had changed nearly twenty-six years prior when three impossibly different women came together in that very house and decided to make it a home. 

Annabeth stood at the foot of the steps that led up to Nightshade Manor and couldn’t help but remember herself as a little girl, standing in front of the house for the first time. She had spent her first few years there but was eventually sent to live with her father in Virginia and then California when he moved for work. But when she was seven, her father had dropped her back off with two suitcases and a picture of her mother in her pocket, telling her that it was really for the best. _ Not much has changed _, she thought as she watched the disappearing lights of her father’s car and reached into her pocket to touch the crinkly glossed paper with an image she had seared into her brain. 

Even in the rain, the house was gorgeous with its white trim, tall windows, and stretches of ivy crawling their way up various trellises around the exterior. Visions of herself running laps around the yard to catch her sisters and selling lemonade on the front lawn to raise money to buy a pet owl captivated her, even as the rain poured down on her and her luggage. A clap of thunder rang out, shaking her from her reverie, and as a flash of lightning lit up the night sky, the manor’s front door swung open. 

“Annabeth Chase, if you stand out in the rain like that you’re bound to catch a cold!” 

A wide smile spread across Annabeth’s face as she looked up to see her sister, Hazel Levesque, standing under the porch light. 

“You sound more like your mom every day, you know that?” she shouted over the rain. 

Annabeth trudged up the flooded walkway and landed on the top step to envelope Hazel in a bear hug. The two women rocked back and forth lightly as they embraced, Annabeth placing a soft kiss to Hazel’s head 

“Sorry I’m all wet,” Annabeth said, stepping back from Hazel. 

“Oh I don’t care,” Hazel said cheerfully. “I’m just glad to have you back.” 

“It’s good to be back,” Annabeth replied. 

Hazel grabbed Annabeth’s luggage and led her into the house, neither of them noticing the dark figure that watched them from across the street. 

The entryway was exactly as Annabeth remembered it: the walls covered with pictures of at least five generations of women who had called the Manor their home through the years, a small table that always had a vase of fresh flowers, and a chandelier that dated back to when the house had first been built. 

“Wow, Hazel, it looks great.” 

The younger woman smiled shyly. “Thanks. The restoration’s been a lot of work. Like, way more than I thought it would be but… it’s definitely worth the trouble. Though Jason is the one who’s been doing the real heavy lifting.” 

“That’s the handy man you mentioned?” she asked as she peeled off her soaking wet coat. 

“One and the same. He had to go out of town for something or other but he should be back in a couple days.” 

The two had meandered down the hallway and Annabeth stopped in front of a picture with her mother in it. She couldn’t help but reach out to run her finger over the image, tracing the outline of her mother’s younger self who beamed with pride as she stood holding the blueprint of the first building design of hers that was ever built. 

“You really do look just like her, Annabeth,” Hazel said as she set down Annabeth’s bags at the foot of the stairs. 

Annabeth took a deep breath and turned back towards Hazel. “Says the one who is an actual carbon copy of her mother.” 

Hazel placed her hands on her hips authoritatively. “Well then I should know, shouldn’t I?” 

Annabeth stepped forward and placed her hands on either side of Hazel’s face. “It’s really good to see you, Little One.” 

Hazel placed her hands on Annabeth’s wrists. “And it’s really good to have you home, Lemon.” 

The two stood there for a moment, taking each other in. It had been six months since they had been together at the funeral for Hazel’s mother, a woman who for all intents and purposes had raised them both. It felt strange now, being the only two in a house that used to hold so much life. 

“Come on,” Hazel said, moving Annabeth’s hands and turning on her heel. “I’ve got some tea waiting in the conservatory for us.” 

“Won’t that be loud?” Annabeth asked. 

“What did mama always say?” Hazel asked with a twinkle in her eye. 

Annabeth smiled. “The conservatory is for tea, weather be damned.” 

“Remember that time you got sunburnt from the tea party we had during that heat wave?” 

“How could I forget? I was a lobster for a week.” 

The girls laughed as Annabeth followed Hazel towards the pretentiously named room that their mothers had begun restoring so long ago. She stood in the doorway to take in the room while Hazel walked towards the tray that held the tea kettle and cups. 

Despite the storm, the full moon’s light flooded through the wall of stained glass windows, casting the room in an eerie tone. In the middle of the room sat a set of black wicker furniture with floral cushions, and Annabeth could still hear the argument she watched Athena and Aphrodite have over their placement. 

Hazel handed Annabeth a tea cup and saucer as she took a seat. “Splash of milk and two sugars, just how you like it.” 

Annabeth smiled as the warmth of the cup sent a tingling sensation through her cold hands, reminding her of when she was a little girl and would curl up with a cup of hot chocolate after a long day of playing out in the crisp fall weather. She breathed the tea in deeply, and focused on relaxing her shoulders, which had been tense over the past few days. 

“So,” Hazel said tentatively. “How did you leave things in New York?” 

Annabeth gave a wry smile. “Oh you mean how did I rebound from rage quitting my job at my dream architecture firm?” 

Hazel scrunched up her face and nodded. “Mhmm.” 

Annabeth exhaled with a huff. “Well, after I called you to make sure it was okay if I came back, I went and got my shit from my office, doubled down and told my former coworker that I would see him in hell, and then the rest is honestly kind of a blur. There was lots of packing, which was mostly just me throwing shit angrily into boxes, and then my dad helped me get things sorted with the moving company and then he dropped me off here.” 

“Doesn’t seem like anything stuck from those anger management classes they made you take after the Octavian incident,” Hazel said teasingly. 

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “I maintain that he kicked himself in the balls. Not my fault his boys never saw fit to come back down.” 

The girls locked eyes and descended into a fit of laughter, doubling over and snorting until their sides hurt. 

Hazel wiped the tears from her eyes and managed to sit upright. “Did you even get in trouble for that?” 

“Here at home? God, no,” Annabeth said, wiping away tears of her own. “Mama took me out for ice cream and asked me if I needed to get my foot checked out by the doctor, and when I wrote to my mom, she sent me a journal where I could strategize how to not get caught the next time.” 

Hazel smiled wide. “Mama always told me I should be thankful I got a big sister like you cause it meant no one would ever mess with me.” 

“Did it work?” 

Hazel’s smile turned mischievous. “Big time.” 

It was well past one in the morning when their conversation began to die down and a wave of exhaustion washed over both of them. They left the tea mugs on the table and headed for the stairs, each one of them dragging one of Annabeth’s bags behind them. 

“What time does Piper get in?” Annabeth asked. 

Hazel shrugged. “She’s supposedly coming in on the three o’clock bus but then she also said she might miss it cause her friends were taking her out for a goodbye celebration so, it’s hard to say.” 

Annabeth shook her head. “Classic Piper.” 

Hazel stopped on the top step and looked at Annabeth. “Please try to be nice. At least right when she gets here.” 

“Pfft, I’m always nice,” Annabeth said unconvincingly. 

Hazel narrowed her eyes. 

“Fine, I will _ try _. But I make no promises.” 

“That’s all I’m asking for,” Hazel shrugged. 

Hazel hugged Annabeth once more, basking in how nice it would be to no longer sleep in the massive house all alone. 

“Night, Lemon,” she said with a yawn as she walked to her own room. 

“Night, Little,” Annabeth called before gently shutting her door. She left her bags at the foot of her bed and walked over to sit on her window sill. 

The clouds parted unnaturally for the moon, almost as if its golden glow were keeping them at bay. For a second, Annabeth could have sworn she saw the face of a woman appear on the moon, reminding her of a bedtime song Marie used to sing her. As she tucked herself into bed, she hummed the song, its lyrics bouncing around in her head. 

_Beautiful moon of the divine mother _

_ Bathe me in your precious light _

_ Gather your daughters _

_ For they are my sisters _

_ Keep us in your bless’ed view _

_ All the night long _

_ we shall sing you this song _

_ Keeping your hearth a-light _

_ Beautiful moon, please don’t leave too soon _

_ Reveal yourself to me _

_ Your secrets I’ll keep _

_ And your magic I’ll teach _

_ No man shall know your truth _

_ My beautiful moon _

_ Must you leave me so soon? _

_ From your path I will not stray _

_ I seek the North star _

_ She will guide me so far _

_ ‘Til I feel your warm embrace… _

* * *

“We’ve been here all day, Hazel,” Annabeth said grumpily. She stood under an umbrella as rain continued to pour.  
  
“It’s only been forty-five minutes,” Hazel said patiently. 

“Well it feels like all day,” Annabeth grumbled, almost to herself. 

Hazel let out a small chuckle. “She can’t control the bus schedule, Annabeth. Plus she called last night from her friend’s phone and said she lost hers, so she can’t exactly text us updates.”   
  
Annabeth narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You really want me to believe Piper McLean _ lost _ her precious cell phone?”   
  
“Okay, well, lost might be an exaggeration...”   
  
“Hazel.”   
  
“She… was drunk and dropped it in the toilet at the club.”   
  
“There it is,” Annabeth said victoriously.   
  
“She made me swear not to tell you, please don’t mention it!” Hazel replied sharply.   
  
Annabeth stayed quiet.   
  
“Annabeth, I mean it!” Hazel plead desperately, tugging on Annabeth’s arm like she used to when she was a little girl.   
  
“Ugh, fine,” Annabeth huffed, defeated. “But if she pisses me off, I can’t be held responsible for what I throw in her face.”   
  
Hazel hugged Annabeth’s arm where she had been tugging it. “Thank you, Lemon.” 

Annabeth smiled despite herself, nudging Hazel’s side playfully. “Yeah, yeah. Now where is she? I’m hungry and you promised me pancakes.”   
  
Just then, the roar of a bus could be heard over the pounding of the rain. As the bus pulled into the station, Annabeth stood up straight to take a deep breath and steel herself for seeing (and speaking to) Piper for the first time since Marie’s funeral. 

A few moments later, a tattered pair of black converse soon made a small splash as they landed on the asphalt, leaving them soaking wet. The woman to whom they were attached seemed unbothered, as she squinted through the rain to look for her ride. A shoulder bumped into her own as a stranger pushed past her, causing her to stumble a bit. 

“Hey, asshole! Would it kill you to use your fuckin manners for half a second?” 

“Calm down, lady,” the man replied. 

“Are you kidding me right now? Who raised you?” she yelled. 

Hazel jumped lightly where she stood. “Piper’s here!” 

Annabeth rolled her eyes, as she often did where Piper was concerned, and handed Hazel the umbrella. “I’m gonna go get the car.” 

When Piper spotted Hazel, she smiled wide and rushed over to her. Her duffle bag was suddenly in a puddle while her arms were wrapped tight around Hazel. 

“Oh, Mini, I missed you!” Piper said excitedly. 

“I missed you too, Pipes! How was the bus?” 

Piper released her and stood just outside the umbrella. “Not too bad, actually. Slept for most of it which was nice.” 

Piper looked around, scanning for something or someone, and not finding it. “Where’s-” 

Just then, Annabeth pulled up in the old car that Marie had left to the three of them. She got out and popped the trunk, walking around the car towards Piper and Hazel. 

“Hey Piper,” she said gently, going in for a hug. 

“Hey Annabeth,” Piper replied, giving Annabeth a couple awkward pats on the back. 

Hazel jumped once, shaking all the excess water off of her umbrella. “My sisters are home at the same time, this is gonna be so fun!”


	3. We Sisters Three

Hazel’s pancakes had been legendary from the first time she made them at seven years old. With a dash of cinnamon and a secret ingredient she refused to reveal, her perfectly fluffy breakfast food always had the power of creating a parley between her often warring sisters. That stormy night proved to be no different. 

Dinner was pleasant. The three women made small-talk and caught up on some of the minor details of their lives, like finding out about Hazel’s promotion at the art supply store, Piper’s life as a gossip reporter in Miami, and Annabeth’s brief tenure as a lecturer at Columbia. As long as pancakes and bacon were on their plate, they were fine. 

Piper walked over and opened the wine cabinet, carefully selecting a red with a particularly fancy name. As soon as she turned around holding the bottle, Annabeth felt anger swell up in her chest. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for a lifetime, Piper?” she asked condescendingly. 

“Here we fucking go,” Piper replied, putting the bottle down on the island with a clank. “How many times do I have to apologize, Annabeth?” 

“I don’t know Piper, how many tequila shots did you have that day?” 

“You were always so good at keeping track of whatever the fuck I’m doing so why don’t you tell me?” 

Annabeth shook her head. “You’re such an asshole,” she said, almost under her breath but not quite. 

“I said I’m sorry!” Piper said, her tone elevated. 

“Sorry doesn’t erase the fact that you blacked out at mama’s funeral reception and made a complete joke out of it!” Annabeth said, her voice measured and dripping with disdain. “There’s just some things you can’t make go away!” 

“I was grieving!” 

“So were we! You’re not the only one who lost a mom that day, Piper. She raised all of us. And you just… you treated that day like it was nothing. Like it was just another one of your bar crawls and we both know Marie deserved a whole lot more than that.” 

Piper couldn’t look at Annabeth as tears escaped her eyes. Her arms were crossed and her lips were tight as she tried to stop her upper lip from quivering. 

Annabeth wiped a frustrated tear from her eye and took a deep breath. “I’ll pick up breakfast in the morning since you made dinner, okay, Little?” 

“Sure,” Hazel said, barely looking up. 

“I’m going to bed, so I’ll… I’ll see you two tomorrow.” 

Annabeth walked by Piper without so much as a glance, her cold shoulder leaving Piper frozen in place. Closing her eyes for a moment, Piper tried to compose herself. 

“I’m sorry, Mini. I’m really... I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking.

Hazel had been quiet as she put the freshly washed dishes away, her usual role in the family shenanigans. She looked down at the dish towel that was in her hand. 

“I know you are, Pipes. Life happens.” 

Piper helped Hazel put the rest of the dishes away, the only sound passing through the space being that of the rain pitter-pattering against the old roof and windows. Once they finished, they simply stood in each other’s presence, trying to figure out where to go next. 

That’s when Hazel spotted it. 

* * *

Piper had never trusted the ouija board, not even as a little girl. Annabeth and Hazel would pull it out of the hall closet, along with a set of crystals and candles Marie gave them to play with, and insist on trying to contact former residents of Nightshade Manor. So when Hazel asked her to have a go with her, Piper’s instinctual answer was no. But when she thought about the fight with Annabeth, and flashes of Marie’s funeral reception popped into her brain, she decided she’d do anything to push it all away. 

“We’re too old for this Hazel,” Piper whined as their hands rested on the pointer. 

Hazel smiled, the beautiful and innocent way she always did when she got to play with her sister. “What did mama always say?” 

Piper huffed. “A ouija board is a girl’s best friend. What the hell does that even mean anyway?” 

Hazel shrugged. “Beats me. But if mama said it, it must be true.” 

The pointer continued to drift back and forth across the board, as the sisters caught up on more of their lives. After a few moments, Hazel decided she wanted more tea, leaving Piper to keep the pointer adrift on the board. 

“What should I ask it?” Piper called out. 

“I dunno,” Hazel replied as she bounced the tea bag up and down, up and down.

“How about I ask if Annabeth will have sex with someone other than herself this year?” 

“Ew!” 

“Am I wrong?” Piper asked, her quirked eyebrow communicated everything it needed to. 

Hazel blushed. 

“That’s what I thought,” Piper said triumphantly, “So, spirits, whatcha got?” 

As if on cue, the pointer moved dramatically, landing on the letter _ A _. 

Piper threw her hands up and gasped. “Holy shit!” 

Hazel walked over with her tea cup and sat down next to Piper. “What?” 

“It moved. Like, on its own.” 

“Piper,” Hazel said, beginning to roll her eyes. 

“No, I’m serious.” 

The lonely pointer moved again, this time landing on _ T _. 

Hazel’s eyes went wide. “What is going on?” 

Piper and Hazel watched as the pointer glided away from the _ T _ and then right back, then swiftly moved to _ I _ , finally coming to a rest on _ C _. 

“A-t-t-i-c. Attic,” Piper whispered. 

The word hadn’t finished crossing her lips when the power at Nightshade Manor went out, plunging the sisters into complete darkness. 

Just outside the house, a flash of lightning illuminated a mysterious figure’s wicked smile before the darkness swallowed it whole once more. 

* * *

Piper trudged up the stairs like a soldier on a mission, having retrieved a flashlight from underneath the sink that now lit her way through the house. 

“Piper,” Hazel whispered harshly as she chased behind her sister. “Piper, wait! Maybe we should get Annabeth?” 

“For what?” Piper said at her normal volume. “So she can tell us to just go to bed and ignore the fact that the goddamn ouija board moved on its own? No way.” 

She stopped in front of the door that none of the sisters had ever been able to open on their own, and as she reached for the doorknob, the door gently creaked open. 

Piper turned slowly to Hazel. “Please tell me you saw that.” 

Hazel looked like she was gonna be sick. “Please let me go get Annabeth.” 

Piper pulled a face. “Hazel, everything is fine. We’re just gonna go up and see if there’s anything up there, and then we come right back down.” 

“This is some white girl in a scary movie mess, you realize that don’t you?” Hazel asked, clearly distressed. 

“Just c’mon,” Piper said, turning to the dark stairwell and beginning her ascent.

Hazel didn’t seem convinced but she dutifully followed Piper up the small staircase anyway.

* * *

The room was a wide square, occupied sparsely by various boxes, paintings, old furniture, and exercise equipment from the eighties that were covered in dust. A particularly bright flare of lightning lit up the room and drew Piper’s attention to a medium sized chest that rested near the window seat. A clap of thunder soon followed, so loud it shook the windows and the last bit of bravery out of Hazel. 

“I’m going to get Annabeth,” she declared, quickly turning on her heel and taking the flashlight with her. Piper watched as she disappeared down the dark stairway but turned back to the chest, taking a deep breath and straightening her posture. 

“You can do this, Piper. You don’t need Annabeth to come save you, you’re a big girl,” she said to herself as she clenched her fists. 

With heavy steps, Piper walked towards the chest, keeping a keen eye on it as if it had threatened to make a break for it. The closer she got, the more the chest seemed to almost glow with a silver light. Pausing for a moment, she looked up to see the full moon shining bright, the heavy rain clouds seeming to have parted to allow the queen of the night sky her time to be adored. 

Piper considered the moon for a moment, admiring how big and bright it looked despite the unprecedented storm. Its presence calmed her, as it always had throughout her life. The beginning of a song their mama used to sing to all the girls began playing in her head as she became almost hypnotized by the beauty of the moon’s face. _ Beautiful moon of the divine mother, Bathe me in your precious light. Gather your daughters, For they are my sisters. Keep us in your bless’ed view... _She remembered being a little girl talking to the moon when she felt lonely, and telling it all her secrets as a teen. Mama had always told her the moon was where women like them came from, their mother in a way, and that’s why talking to her felt like home. Piper had never had the chance to ask Marie what she meant by women like them, and now she never would. 

“Or maybe...” she said, looking down at the chest. 

She found herself crouching down, mesmerized by the silver glow that mysteriously enveloped the solid brown leather chest. Atop the chest was a name: _ M. Levesque _. Piper could not help but run her hand over the name, smiling fondly as she thought of the woman who taught her the importance of dancing around your room in your underwear at the end of a bad day. 

Gingerly, she opened the lid of the chest, surprised by how easily it was removed. All of the light that had been swallowing the chest seemed to change form, creating a beam that illuminated the single item sitting inside. 

A massive, leather-bound book with a strange red symbol on the cover seemed to be beckoning Piper towards it as if it were a beacon. Without a second thought, she reached down and picked it up, instinctively cradling it in her arms and carrying it to the window seat. 

In full view of the moon, Piper opened the old book to its title page which read _ Book of Shadows _ and under it _ 1693 _. Piper ran her hands across the page, which crinkled under her touch, taking a moment to appreciate the calligraphy print in which the words were written. 

“This is old as shit,” she said to herself, or maybe to the moon. She couldn’t be sure. 

Turning the page, she again ran her hand down the grainy parchment paper, a look of wonder overtaking her features. What seemed to be a poem covered the page, and some voice in the back of Piper’s mind told her to read it aloud. 

Hazel and Annabeth entered the attic and froze in place as they watched their sister, with her silhouette perfectly backlit by the full moon, read from the large book that sat in her lap. 

_ “Hear now the words of the witches, _

_ The secrets we hid in the night. _

_ The oldest of gods are invoked here, _

_ The great work of magic is sought. _

_ Under this great moon and within the bonds of sisterhood _

_ I call upon the Divine Mother _

_ Your blood runs through our veins _

_ Your are the beat in our hearts _

_ And the magic in our hands _

_ We are the truth not yet known to man _

_ Bring your powers to we sisters three.” _

Outside, the storm began to clear with a quickness as the rain ceased and black clouds began to melt away. Downstairs, celestial blue and white lights shone through the historic chandelier, casting out any and all darkness. 

If only for a brief moment.


End file.
